


Ghost Survivors

by FluffWitch



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: AU, Canon Divergence, Gen, More characters to be added, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, ghost Survivors
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-24
Updated: 2019-02-26
Packaged: 2019-11-05 01:54:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17909786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FluffWitch/pseuds/FluffWitch
Summary: Here is a tale of a future that never was, of a night that never dawned. They survived their own ordeals that fateful night, now they had to survive the rest of Racoon City. [Ghost Survivor DLC] [canon divergence]





	1. Chapter 1

Daniel Cortini doesn’t feels the smell of death and blood. It’s not from the gas station in front of him, but rather coming from the air blowing in his face. It’s warm and stale, almost like ash floating all over him. He can smell smoke, but not anything else.

He glances at the car’s radio once more, the report repeating itself over and over in his head. “They almost got eaten” reverberates in his brain as he feels his nerves shooting up remembering all those grim headlines on the paper from days prior.

He shakes his head, doesn’t bother closing the car’s door just in case it will alert whatever attacker was inside. There was one person injured in there according to the report he had received, there was no time to stand idle over fleeting fears that may not even be more than just animals attacks around Arklay.

Daniel enters quietly, there is a man clutching at his neck with sitting on the floor. He’s recently deceased, that much he can tell at first glance. Fresh blood sticks to the wound and his face is slack. When he goes to check for a pulse there is nothing, his body is still warm, but all life has left the clerk. Once he notices the bite-like mark and the chunks of meat missing from the wound, all his fears resurface once again.

The sheriff swallows thickly, looks around the store and just as he’s about to enter the back he notices the pungent smell of decay and growl that sounds too human like to be the one of a rabid animal. Before he can react a rotting hand is on his shoulder, fingers trying to claw through the fabric of his shirt.

He struggles, the man is crazed and ravenous, doesn’t listens to a single word Daniel is shouting, and amid the struggle, once teeth are far too close to comfort, Daniel manages to get a hold on his gun, aiming widely and pressing the trigger. The gunshot echoes around the empty store as brain matter splatters over the wall behind the crazed man, he drops immediately, all growling ceasing for a moment as he recovers his breath.

A new wave of panic hits him, he just killed a civilian. A crazy, cannibal, murderous civilian, but that doesn’t makes him any less of a murderer. Self defense be damned, the way the man’s head exploded and the wet sound of his brain would forever haunt him.

However, his panic is short lived. Something hits the glass of the store once, then twice, then too many times to count. Daniel looks up to see people pressing themselves over the glass panels of the store, hissing and snarling. His panic turns into fear, he can see guts spilling open leaving stains over the glass, bones poking from flesh, fingers twisted in a manner they shouldn’t be, and eyes so lifeless staring at him, almost in hunger.

They look like corpses, they most certainly smell like one. One of them has half his face blown off, tongue lolling off as there was no lower jaw to maintain it.

He doesn’t hesitate, not this time. Fear is turned to survival instinct, they don’t stop with bullets to the chest or shoulders, and only drop when the heads are hit. Daniel keeps a steady pace, but the gunshots are calling attention of all the undead near, like setting off a dinner bell among hungry wolves. His ammo runs dangerously low after a few rounds, and the crashing at the back of the store announces that more of those things have broken in.

He’s trying to be calm, but his eyes are wild, looking for any way he can leave the store crawling with the dead. They’re slowly stumbling through aisles, trying to reach the corner he pushed himself into to keep his distance from the glass that threatened to burst and spill corpses over corpses inside. But there isn't a clear path right away, now the bodies have moved far enough for him to see the door. He just has to be quick, just has to run and he’ll be out.

A zombie snarls far too close to comfort as Daniel makes a run for it, and he notices the clerk's lifeless body is standing close, his neck spilling coagulated blood and his eyes devoid of life. The store it’s no big at all, another gas stop in the middle of the road, but with hands clawing at his feet and hungry growls behind his every step make it seem like it’s just too far away, the he isn’t being quick enough. Yet he’s so close, almost--

The door slams open, light spilling inside the dark, blood covered store. Cold air hitting his face as the sheriff stares at whoever stepped inside what was a death trap to him. It takes him a second, he can’t see wounds, or dead eyes or a mouth pulled in a snarl--

“Get down!”

His body obeys, a bullet soars over him and hits a zombie straight in the head. Daniel takes a quick look behind him, all the bodies piling up, before he quickly exists the store. The man who just saved his life is holding a gun, a civilian most likely. The outside of the store is just as bad as the inside, and both men quickly make a beeline for the nearest way to escape, the police car the sheriff had taken with and left open.

Neither of them hesitates. The man-- _boy_ , honestly, he can’t be older than 20, takes the wheel while he took shotgun, closing the doors with a hurried slam while using the car keys still on the ignition, the car sputters to life in a second, and they quickly escape the now swarmed gas station, now following the dark road towards the city.

Daniel Cortini breathes hard, his heart nearly breaking his ribcage and his hands shaking, adrenaline wearing off. For a moment he says nothing, his mouth dry and his brain trying to catch up with what he had just done, what he had seen. He needs to radio back to Stone Ville asap, he knows it, but his hands can’t stop shaking and his breathing had just begun to go back to normal.

He made it, he somehow survived all that chaos, stuck in a small store with only his pistol with zombie after zombie bursting in. He made it in one piece, It was all that mattered to him right now.


	2. Chapter 2

Elliot Edward doesn’t considers himself lucky, though the rest of the RPD sure does. If he forgets paperwork then Chief Irons is out trying to look good with the major, if he goes to the vending machine an extra snack will most likely fall just for him, and he somehow always manages to get the last cup of coffee in the office. It was just about small details that bleed into his everyday life. Elliot “lucky” Edward always had some sort of deity smiling down on him, or so the joke went.

But right now, after having to pull the trigger at who had once been the police department’s receptionist, he thinks he must’ve pissed lady luck to hell and back. He wasn’t lucky by any means, what could ever be considered good luck in the middle of a massacre? Dying quickly?

The west wing of the RPD was overrun quickly, the few civilians that managed to survive past attacks were short of slaughtered once the zombies broke through the boarded windows. They had lost Meyer and Fred in the frenzy, and David had just managed to pull Marvin away from the grip of a zombie but not before getting a nasty bite near the stomach. The security lock at least kept the outbreak of the east wing from spilling into the main hall, but it also secluded their not-so-safe haven enormously.

Elliot shakes his head, trying to keep it together as his shaky fingers took a grip on the small scrap of paper he managed to salvage. He has an idea of what it is, barely. He remembers the talk about the old museum having one too many secrets, whoever had built it had been one paranoid bastard keen on the secrecy of hidden passages and puzzles to go through them. That, and he distinctly remembers the old maps of the station, before the library was rebuilt. A tunnel that went towards the parking lot, away from the zombies trying to get past the metal gates of the station.

The detective looks at the finely carved statue of the goddess at the top of the reception, the old tunnel hidden somewhere. Taking one look at the security cameras on the east wing, he made up his mind, he has to go back there. The old maps were their only hope for an escape.

* * *

 

There aren’t many zombies at the moment, some of them locked up in different rooms, but he’s also being quiet enough not to attract attention. The corridors are a grim reminder of what had happened just a day ago, splattered with blood and flesh and guts. Elliot tries not to think about, and not to look at the bodies sprawled on the floor among their own organs, he doesn’t wants to look at what those cannibals had done to the people he used to work with.

The break room wasn’t far away, but it felt like a dangerous eternity reaching there. The maps aren’t as legible as he thought, and he truly needs to use his detective work and put two and two together. The RPD had four statues in total, three small ones and one big one, the goddess’s statue needed three symbols, maybe just…

He writes it down, as quickly as he can, scribbled drawings are better than just words no one would understand and he honestly has no time to coherently write. It’s pure luck that he has an inkling on what to do, and he hopes his theories are right once he tests them. Elliot pocketed the small notebook once he was done, just in time to hear the shuffling of steps and a low growl outside the little room. He goes quiet, still as he possibly can and for a moment forgets how to breathe.

He wasn't the best shot around the RPD, barely decent even, his job as detective rather than an officer never truly made him use his gun as much as his coworkers on active duty did. Elliot wishes he had taken advantage of the firing range more.

The way back is stressing, not because a horde of zombies are crawling towards him, but because Meyer's body is the one going after him this time. His ribcage is open and he can see rotting flesh inside, who had once been his friend now was nothing more than a barely held together shell, stumbling towards him in attempts of festing a ghost hunger despite the lack of stomach in his body.

He can't aim properly, Meyer stumbles towards him and each clumsy shot is just enough to keep him at bay. He needs to aim to head, but he's too close and the corpses ways back and forth as if knowing what the detective is trying to do. One bullet graces the zombie's head, blasting an ear away as a splurt of black blood emerges from the wound, it does nothing to stop it.

“David, Marvin! You there?!” It's a desperate attempt, they should be back at the main hall by now. David would come for him. “I found a way out, it's in here.”

He lifts the notebook to the camera, and immediately goes for his gun. Meyer lunges at him and he's just in time to push him back. “Send reinforcements, east hall way!”

He runs, he can't look behind him. The hallways are very small and the windows wide open. For a moment he swears he can see the tell-tale of fingers around the edges, that there is another echo of footsteps coming from behind him, faster than before.

His luck will run out, probably, maybe. It certainly looks that way once he sees the shutter fully closed, no gap for him to crawl under back to the others. Elliot's heart drops to his feet once he realizes he's trapped.

“Open up! HURRY! **OPEN THIS GODDAMN DOOR!”**

 _Please let David be there, Marvin, anyone that can get the shutter open_.

He can hear glass breaking somewhere, low moans coming from behind him, and accepts that the luck his friends always talked about had just ran out.

Except it doesn't.

He hears the quick echo of footsteps before he hears the gunshots, four of them in rapid succession. Meyer stumbles and falls once the back of his head is pierced by three bullets, the last one missing its mark and hitting the shoulder before he's finally put to rest. Elliot blinks a couple of times, points his flashlight and gun towards whoever had done that. A young woman with wild eyes is looking at him, and both feel the other's relief at seeing someone alive for a change.

“Are you okay?!” The woman asks, she can see the police uniform on him and it's a relief to find a live cop. Elliot nods, questions can be asked later, how a civilian got there could wait, they both had to get out of there.

They manage to lift the shutter between both of them, enough to crawl under in panic as zombies spilled inside from the windows, shutting it tightly as the metal rattles with snarls and growls, neither wants to imagine what would have happened if they had stayed there.

“Well, that was close.” The woman mumbles, her tone laced with giddy disbelief, perhaps she was too processing they almost died. “Are you okay?”

He nods, looking at the woman for a moment. Definitely a civilian, too young to be a cop and without the standard firearm for the force. He takes a breath, she's a civilian and he's a cop, his duty is still to protect and serve. “Elliot Edward, we have to get to the main hall miss.”

“Right, I'm Claire, Claire Redfield. Guess we're in luck we found each other back there.” Claire gives a tight grin, he only nods, offering a barely visible, shaky grin that doesn't last much.

Elliot Edward is lucky. Claire Redfield never stopped at the desolated gas station, she never encountered a rookie cop and wasn't part of a car crash. She kept on to Raccoon City, she saw the undead on the streets, heard the delayed message to the civilians to go to the police station and took the back roads to reach it. She came from the back entrance, just as he was trying to leave.

He's lucky, without Claire Redfield, Elliot Edward would have died in that grim corridor, just like his friends and coworkers did.


End file.
